


Anything For You

by hedgehog_in_221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Flu, Fluff, M/M, Sick!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehog_in_221B/pseuds/hedgehog_in_221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the reader is sick in bed, Dean takes care of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything For You

   You snuggled further under your blankets, determined to get warm. It wasn't particularly cold in your room, but with the flu plaguing you, you were either too cold or too warm. Now was one of the cold times. You plunged farther under the mess of fleece and comforter that was your bed, your teeth chattering as you did so. A tentative knock was heard at your door and you pulled your head out from under the blankets to peer out. “Come in,” you said in a somewhat croaky voice. You coughed a few times before settling back under your comforter. The door opened softly and shut.  
   “How you feeling?” Dean asked, setting down a tray on your nightstand and sitting down on the edge of your bed. You coughed again and turned in your bed to face him.  
   “Like shit,” you replied. He chuckled, making you smile. “Nah, I feel better than I did before. Just cold.” He brushed your hair off your forehead and placed his hand there.  
   “You're burning up,” he said, reaching over at grabbing a thermometer from the tray. “Here, put this under your tongue and don't move it 'til it beeps. I'll be right back with a cool washcloth,” he said, getting up and pushing the thermometer gently into your mouth. You stuck the metal end under your tongue, even though it was uncomfortable. He was back just as the thermometer beeped and took it out gingerly. “101.4 degrees. Yup, you gotta fever. You achy anywhere?” he asked. You nodded.  
   “Yeah, everything hurts and my throat's so sore.” He reached over and grabbed a box of daytime flu relief medicine. “Here.” You reached out your hand and put the gel capsules into your mouth. He handed you a bottle of water, which you drank heartily. “This has stuff for headaches, body aches, fever, runny nose, and sore throat, so you should be feeling better soon. Oh, and I made you something to eat, too,” he said, grabbing a bowl from the tray. You sat up as best you could, groaning as you did. “It's tomato rice soup.” You smiled.  
   “Isn't that what your mom used to make you as a kid?” you asked. He smiled and nodded, scooping some up on a spoon and blowing on it before bringing it to your lips.  
   “Yeah, whenever I got sick, this was always what I had. And this isn't any of that canned crap either; I made this from scratch. It's probably not as good as she used to make it, but it's close enough,” he said, feeding you another spoonful.  
   “It's really good. My mom used to make me chicken noodle soup. It tasted nothing like this. God, if this was what I had as a kid, I would have stayed home sick more often,” you said. Dean chuckled again.  
   “I'm glad you like it.” You looked at him a moment.  
   “Thanks for taking care of me, Dean.” He smiled.  
   “Anything for you.”


End file.
